


Two Ways To Use A Knife

by loki_of_jotunheim



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz, Leverage
Genre: But I love the concept of the Leverage team being former scorpia and helping Alex and Yassen, I Don't Even Know, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loki_of_jotunheim/pseuds/loki_of_jotunheim
Summary: It was a very distinct style of training.(Or: Everyone but Nate was trained by Scorpia. Everyone but Eliot left the island before graduation. And Alex and Yassen find a second home in a brewpub.)
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 9
Kudos: 87





	Two Ways To Use A Knife

**Author's Note:**

> Posted from my phone, I'll fix formatting errors and anything else in the morning. Update: morning, 7/10 - formatting and spelling should be good to go. lemme know if there's anything I missed!

Hardison knew he should have left before he set foot in Venice, let alone Malagasto. But the money had been good and his gran had had her bills paid (legally!) and there weren’t strings attached (aside from them knowing of her existence but the moment he’d been pulled out of class and into the small interrogation room with the woman who knew just a bit too much to be regular cops, he knew any chance he or Gran had had to not be noticed had just washed down the drain) and he was young and naive enough to go along. He should have left before they’d gotten to the island but dammit they’d valued his skills and he could talk about them freely and it was a rarity. 

He didn’t suck at shooting. Everyone, including himself, was surprised by that. He didn’t question it for now. He did well in the other classes too. He wasn’t first of his class, or second (and he would never reveal how much of that was deliberate, he was under no illusions what kind of attention that would draw to himself would bring) but he wasn’t last. 

He didn’t think about if he’d be able to shoot another person. That was a problem for later, or when he’d been working on hacking into the nearest government agency or bank for fun and was too exhausted to feel emotional. But graduation grew nearer and he was unable to avoid it and he finally slipped away one night, leaving a note and a promise to not reveal anything ever, just that his nan wouldn’t have approved of that part of things and he couldn’t cross her. 

They didn’t come after him and they didn’t come after her. Alec Hardison kept his promise. 

Parker was cornered and she knew it. The man in front of her - she’d thought he was a security guard - was almost relaxed as he approached with a gun drawn on her. Her eyes darted across the room and to the vent that was unattainable but the man stopped just out of her reach. 

“You have potential.” He said. “You have two options. Come with me, and hone it, or die.” 

Parker wasn’t stupid. Or suicidal, despite what that therapist lady had said. _Or a sociopath,_ An voice whispered, _she felt emotions and cared dammit it just HURT so she shoved them down instead_.

She chose not to die.

Malagasto honed her and she learned how to kill with the same skill that she had become a thief. 

But she too, slipped away before they could have her hands bloodied. 

Scorpia let her be. 

Eliot Spencer wasn’t so lucky. 

Fresh out of the army, nightmares and screams and horror clipping at his heels, he took whatever jobs kept him awake long enough to avoid the nightmares and wake up for the next. He knew one day it would kill him and a small part of him hoped it would. He was under no illusions what kind of a person he was _had become on top of the kid with a flag on his shoulder and God in his heart that he couldn’t stop looking for and that stared at him desperately in the mirror every morning_ and when he was staring down the barrel of an assassin he’d been told to follow and eliminate and that he knew outclassed him he waited for the bullet to come and it never did.

“Come with me.” The man said, holstering his gun. 

Eliot didn’t hesitate. 

When he stared in he mirror after he graduated, the boy in the mirror had changed. Instead of desperation, there was resignation. Instead of hope, there was mourning. 

Eliot came home again one night and smashed the first mirror he saw. That blood would never come out _never never never_ and he couldn’t get it out now and he stared at the young eyes in his waking hours and his dreams and he had a gun in his hand and almost to his heart before he threw it across the room with a soundless howl. 

Eliot Spencer stared at the man staring at his own death who’d asked him to sit down and he sat and Eliot Spencer learned how to use a knife. 

Scorpia got the third letter in the several years after that and yet again, didn’t go after him. They knew it would have been worthless. Besides, Hunter was rising through the ranks quite quickly. Eliot Spencer had served them quite admirably and his contract had been up for a few years now. He was free to go. 

Sophie Devereaux was beautiful and that word became synonymous with deadly. The Countess had been very proud of her accomplishments and even though Spohie had never been as good at the shooting part of things she excelled at others and it seemed to balance out. 

The Countess seemed to know about Sophie leaving before Sophie had even fully decided but a small letter and gift had been slipped into her belongings and despite the (admittedly weak) poison on the flowers (a test, Sophie smiled wryly, she would have expected no less) Sophie was grateful for the letter and it’s contents that all but gave permission to leave. 

They both know Sophie would have made a better sniper than assassin, and she was far, far better at slipping in and out undetected than any of that anyways.

Sophie was the fourth and final Malagasto graduate to leave a letter as such. (No-one else left, but it wasn’t because Scropia cracked down. Would they have? No one knew, but no one asked.)

They let her go. She let them be. 

Nathan Ford said nothing as the form requesting leave and the insurance coverage returned. Maggie Ford neé Collins didn’t ask as he sat with his head bowed at the counter. 

“They refused to cover it.” He said, voice devoid of all emotion. “I’ll figure it out.” 

She didn’t mention the only thing he had left was the car and the house to sell. He knew. 

When Sam died, and Nate fell apart, Maggie, for his good as much as her own, filed quietly for divorce. He would never admit it but her being free helped him. He didn’t fight it. He gave up everything he had left. She walked away, a letter on the table, and hoped she’d made the right choice. 

“Mr. Ford, how badly do you want to screw the agency that let your son die?” Dubinech asked. Nate Ford stared at the file and the name and the words Top Secret and knew if he played this right, he could get revenge and maybe sleep with himself at night. 

This wasn’t even treason. It was barely even illegal. 

Nate Ford took the job. 

Hardison never shot with the intention to kill. Deliberate misses, fumbles to hide his past.

Parker never aimed with the intent to pull the trigger. Besides, why would a thief know how to kill? It was easy enough to keep that hidden.

Eliot never used a gun to begin with, established his distaste. He was good enough without it. 

“We've been chasing Moreau for six months, and you didn't tell us.” Nate Ford said, staring at Eliot. Eliot felt the panic rise and he was asking the other man that kept him from going all the way down and -

“Because I was trying -” He needed the words, needed to explain - 

“Because what?” 

“To figure out a way around this, all right, maybe take my shot before -- “ the only people he’d do it for now, ever again - 

“Cause you're protecting him? Is that what you're –” Nate gestured, indignant, angry. Eliot snapped. 

“I'm protecting you! All right, last time I checked, that's my job.” That was his job.

“Look, we can handle Moreau.” Nate said. Arrogantly. Confidently. 

“We're out of our league, Nate. Every one of Moreau's men has innocent blood on their hands, every one of ‘em. Every one of ’em... are worse than me. You think you know what I've done? The worst thing I ever did in my entire life I did for Damien Moreau. And I -- I'll never be clean of that.” Eliot waited for the bullet that never came and begged the man to understand.

“Scorpia.” Parker said. Everyone snapped their heads to her. “You move like w - they did.” 

“It’s a very distinctive style.” Hardison added after a few moments of silence, reluctantly. He met Elliot’s eyes. A small nod. 

“We all moved on.” Sophie said gently. “We’re not the same people we were then. But we’ve learned the hard way we have got to trust each other.” 

His family sat and then Nate moved on.

They knew who he was. What he’d done. And...they understood.

Eliot looked in the mirror for the first time he’d missed a bullet with his name on it and the boy staring finally smiled again. 

The brewpub was quiet the morning when a young boy, no older than 15, quietly made his way to a booth and sat, doing his best to hide an injury. Eliot exchanged glances with Parker and Hardison and he became priority.

Alex looked up at the blonde lady who moved like Yassen but smiled like Jack and when she asked his name he told her. 

When she asked if he’d graduated, he didn’t wonder how she knew or what she meant and answered honestly. 

He told them his story. In exchange, they trusted him with theirs. 

Jack got a phone call and an invitation to Portland. Somehow, she knew she wouldn’t be returning to England, and so she packed her bags, packed Alex’s things, and left for the last time.

Yassen Gregorvich slipped into the brewpub early, just as it opened, and Eliot Spencer met his eyes from across the room. The assassin-turned-thief-turned-cook came and sat and noticed the same stiffness Alex had moved with when he'd arrived. 

“You stayin?” Eliot asked gruffly. “I could always use another chef.” 

“...Yes.” Yassen decided. 

And Yasha learned to use a knife.

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing was inspired by what if everyone in Leverage was former Scorpia? I hope what resulted is still true to their characters.


End file.
